


Not Your Fault

by Boton



Series: Deeper [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: The Abominable Bride, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5728885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boton/pseuds/Boton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the below prompt on the kink meme comes this drabble of a story.</p><p>"So, for me, the saddest part in the Abominable Bride was Mycroft blaming himself for Sherlock's drug use. I need a fix it.</p><p>After getting Sherlock settled back into Baker Street, John calls Mycroft to tell him that it's not his fault."</p><p>Hope you like this, Anon, wherever you are!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and his universe are the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock is the creation of the BBC and its partners, and of co-creators Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. This work is for my pleasure and that of my readers; I am not profiting from the intellectual property of those creators listed above.

As it turned out, Sherlock wasn’t quite as ready to begin work as he thought he was when he got into the car with John and Mary. The brief bout of lucidity was followed, frighteningly enough, with Sherlock losing consciousness once again as soon as he sat down, his head lolling back against the seat. He muttered unintelligible fragments of words and sentences as the car sped toward Baker Street, John and Mary both monitoring Sherlock’s pulse and airway while discussing care.

“Baker Street? Really, John?” Mary said, looking up from Sherlock’s pale face. “Shouldn’t we be going to hospital? Or, at least, shouldn’t we be taking him to our place so we can keep an eye on him?”

John laughed wryly. “I don’t think we have a choice other than Baker Street. We can’t take him to A&E without alerting the authorities that a murderer is on the loose; Mycroft can fix this, but only if we don’t leave too many messes for him to clean up in the meantime. And Baker Street is probably the next best place to handle a near overdose. I’ve had a kit stashed there for years; never needed it ‘til now, but I’m certain Sherlock didn’t get rid of it.”

Mary cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise as John continued. “He’s not stupid. Believe it or not, he knows that this is a possible result of drug use, and I think he thought of me as a kind of safety net.” John rubbed his eyes, adding, “He’d been clean for so long, Mary. All those times Mycroft thought it was a ‘danger night,’ and I never found anything, never saw anything, never had a reason to suspect so much as slip-up. He was in a bad way if he took this much after not using for so long.”

Once they arrived at Baker Street, it was controlled chaos for a while. The pair manhandled Sherlock up the seventeen stairs to the flat and got him to the couch. John ran for his emergency kit – as he predicted, untouched – while Mary positioned Sherlock safely and continued to monitor him. A dose of naloxone, and Sherlock was sputtering back awake with a fierce headache and, John thought, a slightly guilty look in his eyes.

Mary was able to convince Sherlock that he needed to be in bed; Moriarty would wait, as dead men were so good at doing. John shook his head in a bit of wonder that Mary was able to so easily convince Sherlock of what he needed to do, guiding him back to his bedroom and helping him to change to pajamas and get into bed. She sat with him in the short time it took him to fall into a much-less-drugged sleep, then returned to the lounge to see John staring at his phone.

“John?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” John said, “but I think I need to call Mycroft. We had a bit of a talk getting off the plane, and I think I’m actually worried about him.”

Mary went to the kitchen to make some tea and give John some privacy as John dialed Mycroft’s private line. Unsurprisingly, Mycroft picked up immediately. 

“Holmes speaking. Dr. Watson, what news have you?” John thought he could hear the same anxiety in Mycroft’s voice that was there on the plane.

“Mycroft, he’s going to be fine. We got him back to Baker Street, gave him some naloxone to counter at least the opiate part of things, and he’s sleeping right now. He’s going to have a hell of a hangover, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage done. You caught him in time.”

That last sentence was deliberate. John took a deep breath and continued on.

“Mycroft, I feel a little strange saying this, but I think someone has to. This wasn’t your fault.”

“John, really, I,” Mycroft began to deflect.

“No, really, Mycroft. Don’t you think I know a little bit about you by now? I don’t believe for a second that you don’t care, especially about your brother. And you know what? That’s not a weakness; that’s part of being human. You’re right to care, but you’re not right to blame yourself. Sherlock’s behavior is not your fault. It isn’t your fault he’s used drugs in the past, and it isn’t your fault he used them today.”

John heard a very soft sigh that sounded a bit like, “But I should have,” so he cut Mycroft off again.

“No, listen to me. Maybe Sherlock had some really good reasons for needing to dull the pain today. But none of them are your responsibility. From what I can piece together, you did everything in your power to give him a chance at living, from the moment we got on that helicopter to Appledore. You may be the British Government, but you’re not omnipotent, and you’re not responsible for everything that happens to Sherlock.”

Here John paused. After a beat, Mycroft sighed and said, “Thank you, John. I shall take your comments seriously. It is possible that I have become…too close to the matter to be objective.”

“Happens to the best of us,” John said with a laugh. “Even to people who aren’t goldfish.

“You will keep me posted?” Mycroft continued.

“Of course,” John said. “But I think you can rest easy at the moment.”

With that, Mycroft ended the call, and, a second later, John shut his phone off. He went to the kitchen and joined Mary, and together they waited for Sherlock to recover.

**Author's Note:**

> The part of this I enjoyed writing the most was the little blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment where Mary helps Sherlock get settled in his bedroom to sleep it off. Somehow, I don't think he'd argue with anything Mary told him was the right thing to do!


End file.
